


something else i'd rather break

by thorduna



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Consent Issues, Deleted Scenes, Future Fic, Illusions, M/M, Sounding, Tentacles, Whipping, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorduna/pseuds/thorduna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired, of course, by the deleted scene of Loki's imaginary coronation. </p>
<p>
  <i>Loki sighs out his pleasure at such a sight. There is yet something missing though and at his silent command, more twitching tendrils spring up from nothingness and wind themselves about Thor's chest, squeezing until he gasps and squirms. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	something else i'd rather break

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I've wanted to write tentacle porn for so long now... then this excellent opportunity came around.
> 
> Of course, the whole thing is pretty rough, I chose not to warn because we are in muddy waters.

He sits back, relaxing into the soft cushion even as a sharp smirk cuts through his features, betraying his nonchalant posture.

 

No matter.

 

In front of him, Thor is barely balancing on the tips of his toes, held up by coiling tendrils of magic that slither around him like snakes, shiny and dark. Loki is proud of that particular feat of magic. They bend to his will easily, following multiple streaks of his errant thoughts all at once. And the strength of them... oh. His golden, proud brother, suspended and naked, completely at his wicked mercy. Thor's skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, making him look that much more delectable and wrecked, though they have barely started. The moisture pools in his armpits as the tendrils pulls his arms to the side, leaving him sprawled in a mockery of surrender, and at the tops of his straining thighs, where the tendrils have thickened into powerful ropes and are keeping his legs spread wide apart.

 

Loki sighs out his pleasure at such a sight. There is yet something missing though and at his silent command, more twitching tendrils spring up from nothingness and wind themselves about Thor's chest, squeezing until he gasps and squirms. Loki nods to himself, his smile growing even wider when the bulging muscles of Thor's pectorals perk up even more than usual, framed by the pulsing, deep green – then black – then deep red again – ropes. And simply because it is too much to resist – and there is nothing Loki will deny himself now – two tiny tendrils rise and begin to tease at Thor's nipples.

 

He leaves them there indefinitely and moves on.

 

“Look at me,” he orders. He has allowed Thor the relief of hanging his head low in his shame, long strands of golden hair, darkened with sweat, obscuring the expressions of his face, but he won't stand it any longer. When Thor resists, remaining unmoving, a sharp pang of irritation runs down Loki's spine and with a twitch of his hand, Thor's head is yanked up painfully.

 

“You will do as I say,” Loki says calmly after Thor has finally met his gaze, defiant and stubborn. “You have no choice.”

 

The words taste like the best mead on his tongue.

 

Fortified by this simple pleasure, Loki lets his gaze travel downwards over the strong planes of Thor's torso, landing on his cock, which is exactly as impressive and thick as the rest of him. Loki licks his lips as he summons more tendrils and he glances back up at Thor's face gleefully as they – guided by nothing more than a quick thought of Loki's – begin to drip with oil. One winds itself around the root of Thor's cock, another comes to encircle and tease at his balls, the next one stretches and flattens until it is snugly fitted around Thor's girth and starts stroking it, not unlike a palm would.

 

The first moan that slips past Thor's lips – unwittingly, for sure – is music to Loki's ears and he laughs out loud in delight. Almost as though his magical tendrils gain a bit of a mind of their own, their movements speed up, become more intense, eager to please. Thor's nipples are plucked at mercilessly, his thighs are wrenched further apart, his cock squeezed almost cruelly. In no time, he is hard, slickness that doesn't come from the tendrils beading at the tip.

 

“Such a good brother I am to you, wouldn't you say?” Loki coos, watching with unbridled interest as the slick, smooth movements of the tendrils bring Thor almost to climax. Just as Thor's stomach visibly tightens and he thrusts forward, chasing that last bit of pleasure, Loki flicks his fingers and the stroking tendril rears back, while the ones coiling around the root of Thor's cock and around his balls tighten. Thor cries out, an anguished sound that probably has no place tearing its way out of a thunderer's throat, but it leaves something very hot and pleasant sitting in Loki's belly.

 

Well then.

 

Quick as a thought – quite literally – tendrils thinner than even the ones that have been tormenting Thor's nipples for long minutes now spring up and come switching down at Thor's tender flesh. Loki would almost feel sympathetic, if he wasn't so far beyond those things. Thor's cock is hard and straining, the head filled with blood, red and shiny with it. And the skin is oh so fragile... Loki will take care not to break it, there is time and place for Thor's blood being shed, and it is not now, but it must hurt quite terribly. Loki is fascinated as the agile tendrils beat down at the tender tip of Thor's cock, each of the small whips hitting their target every time, swishing through the air and landing with pinpricking cracks.

 

“Loki, please, _please,_ stop-” Loki knows that Thor has been begging for quite a while, but he lets it go on that little bit further. Thor should learn his place. Gone are the times where the tiniest crumb of humility on his part got him everything he wanted.

 

Finally he relents and Thor sags against his bond.

 

“Eyes open,” Loki drawls lazily and with a wave of his hand, Thor is being pleasured again, but the way his lip trembles tells Loki is his still aching.

 

Good.

 

Loki lets up, stretching slowly and walks closer to Thor, admiring the red and purpling welts that thinly cross the thin, sensitive skin of Thor's cock.

 

He reaches out and flicks at the bruised tip with his index finger, making Thor whimper. “I hope you are not too cross with me for tormenting your second most prized possession. Or is it the first? I could never tell.”

 

Amused by his own words, he returns to his seat. The skilful tendril strokes Thor towards the edge again, pain or no. This time, Loki lets it happen. He keeps his expressions blank because Thor, having apparently learned his lessons, keeps glancing up at him even as pleasure clearly overtakes him, fearing what Loki will do.

 

And that is a heady feeling.

 

It also makes Loki feel more wicked than ever.

 

He readies himself, speeding up the caresses on Thor's cock until he finally lets out a low groan and jets of thick white start spurting from his cock, landing at the floor close to Loki's feet. One, two, three pulses and Loki grins – Thor's eyes are closed and he is bathing in the blissful relief of his climax. That's when Loki strikes.

 

The rope around the base of Thor's cock tightens again and a thin – but not _too_ thin – tendril coils just beneath the bulb of the head, growing in length until it's winded around multiple times, squeezing the tender glands. Then it grows some more and finally the end of the tendril leaves its places and starts slithering into the pulsing hole at the tip of Thor's cock.

 

Thor's eyes fly open and he looks down just in time to see it disappear inside of him.

 

“No, no, please-” he starts, and there's that word again. Loki enjoys hearing it. “Loki, it _hurts_.”

 

“Of course it hurts, dear brother,” Loki says patiently. “You have a piece of my magic jammed up your cock. I wonder, how do you like my tricks now?”

 

Thor just shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut again, visibly biting down whimpers.

 

“Tell me, Thor. I asked you a question, so answer it.”

 

Loki is having great fun raining all this torture and humiliation on his perfect brother's flesh, but there is a sense of irritation coming over him too. Thor might not even realize, but he is treading on very thin ice.

 

“They're no tricks,” Thor gulps out. ”Your magic is powerful and-”

 

No. _Wrong_. So wrong. Loki waves his hand angrily and the ropes holding Thor in place yank him around so his back is facing Loki. He leaves the tendrils tormenting Thor's cock and nipples as they are, but he desires something a bit more... more. And the broad, long expanse of Thor's back is the perfect canvas upon which he can paint his frustration.

 

They are no tiny whips that he conjures, nothing like the small flogs that he used on Thor's cock. This is the real punishment – Thor knows nothing about pain –

 

The crack of the first blow almost reminds Loki of thunder, but the impression soon disappears. When true thunder sounds, Thor laughs – he doesn't cry out pitifully in pain or beg for mercy.

 

In the end, Loki breaks his – wholly insignificant and silent – promise of not making Thor bleed today. His back is bruised purple, wide welts crossing the previously unblemished, tanned skin, and there is a place, just above Thor's right hip, where Loki's thoughts and control have slipped and the whip came down with careless force, drawing blood.

 

Loki watches it well up from the cut and trickle down, over the restraint binding Thor's thigh and then ever so slowly drip down onto the floor.

 

Where it disappears.

 

Loki frowns. Thor's spend didn't do that. He is better than this – he's had time to practice, after all.

 

Then there is a metallic taste filling the back of his mouth and he jerks in alarm, trying to find a defence but it is, of course, too late. A searing wave of heat sweeps through his cell, leaving him stunned, skin crackling in pain as the residual lightning dances across it.

 

He doesn't hear thunder, but then again, he is too far below ground for that.

 

The cushioned sofa he sits on turns back into a cot and Loki slowly rises his head. Thor stands before him, dressed in armour, Mjolnir in hand.

 

“I wasn't done playing with that.”

 

That is, of course, the worst thing to say, but that is precisely his intent. There was something unsettling about the way Thor was staring at him after he destroyed Loki's illusion and Loki found himself eager to give that last little push to bring Thor into headless rage and simply give Loki the thrashing he deserved.

 

It doesn't happen. Thor cocks his head almost imperceptibly to the side and just keeps watching him.

 

“Thor? Hello? Did you finally fry your brain with that thing? I said I wasn't done. Do you want to know how I was going to proceed? Well, there was still-”

 

“Do you know how long you've been here?” Thor interrupts him.

 

Loki's mouth clamps shut and he curls his fists as an unexpected wave of pain cuts through him. _Low blow, brother._

 

“Years,” he says eventually. He has no desire to elaborate, but yes, he has some idea. This cell is not like the one that he was placed in before Frigga's death – before Thor broke him out – he doesn't see other prisoners, but there are still guards around sometimes, bringing him food and other necessities. He knows that Odin ruled weakly for some years after Thor stormed back to Asgard and tore down Loki's ruse. He knows that Thor has been king now for almost thrice that time... and all the while Loki has been here, defeated and imprisoned yet again.

 

“Yes. Years,” Thor echoes. “The wounds you have dealt across the realms are healing, slowly, but they are. Through no help of yours of course, but for your absence, perhaps.”

 

Loki blinks. That is the last thing he expected Thor to say after what he has just witnessed.

 

“I am overjoyed to hear that, and filled with remorse, of course,” he says, sarcasm flowing freely, still hoping to goad Thor into rage.

 

“You are filled with a lot of things,” Thor says darkly. “And you will not be allowed the pleasure of rotting in them any longer.”

 

That's the second thing Thor has managed to say in the span of mere minutes that has caused Loki to hurt – he must be growing soft. Or Thor has grown hard. A death sentence for his imaginary defiling of Asgard's king, then. He would expect that from Odin, Hela damn his soul, but not from his brother.

 

“You are free to go.”

 

Loki's mouth drops open even as he heart jumps, pumping some long forgotten feeling back into his veins.

 

“ _Free_ to go? Have you lost your mind?” he demands, hating his own inability to understand Thor's motives. How could Thor possibly let him go?

 

“No,” Thor says, stepping back and opening the cell door. He looks... sad. “But you have lost yours.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 
> 
> thorduna.tumblr.com


End file.
